I Should’ve Been A Guru (SLT 2010)
Young girls for the pickings
Followers wash my asshole
And grown men weep at my face
I think I could’ve made a go
Smile always and act like I know
The perfect secrets of the cosmic wow
But it’s too late to be a guru now
I should’ve been a guru
Talk shows with Larry King
White robes in a limousine
A long beard and a big ring
I know I could’ve been at peace
A happy face and perfect teeth
Free eats off the sacred cow
But it’s too late to be a guru now
I should’ve been a guru
Sitting still up on a hill
No stress no mess
No sins to confess
No action no friction
Never watched Pulp Fiction
Just laugh while the people bow
But it’s too late to be a guru now
I should’ve been a guru
Punching a nazi
Albert Camus won’t
Bring back the Stasi
Kissing a baby
Pinching a lady
Oh Mr. Mansplain
You so crazy
Banning an Arab
Punching a nazi
Even Ayn Rand was
Never this bossy
Dating a Barbie
Making a killing
These were the days oh
Wasn’t it thrilling
Killing an arab
Punching a nazi
Dating a Barbie
Making a killing
Killing an arab
Punching a nazi
Albert Camus won’t
Bring back the Stasi
Kissing a baby
Pinching a lady
Oh Mr. Mansplain
He’s so crazy
Banning an Arab
Punching a nazi
Even Ayn Rand was
Never this bossy
Offer her a lollipop
Offer her some gum
Offer her most anything
Don’t offer her my gun
Offer her de Beauvoir
Or offer her de Sade
Keep your knees together
Have some faith in god
If you’ll be my Valerie Solanas
I will be your Robespierre
Nothing can come between us
‘cept that thing underneath your hair
We have so much in common
Let’s go off on a tear
Bring it down Kill the clowns
Such a lovely pair
Offer her a role in porn
Offer her revolt
Offer her most anything
Offer her your scorn
Offer her some Tribe8
Offer her Genet
Keep your shit together
Fall to your knees and pray
If you’ll be my Valerie Solanas
I will be your Robespierre
Nothing can come between us
‘Cept that thing underneath your hair
We have so much in common
Let’s go off on a tear
Bring it down Kill the clowns
Such a lovely pair
Speed & Weed (R.U. Sirius & Phriendz 2017)
Paranoid listening to Let it Bleed
Long letters to J.G. Ballard and Chuck Manson
Kidnapped my shadow and held it for ransom
How I wish I could still do speed and weed
Wide awake watching the cops retreat
Twin Peaks repeats with a bunch of crazy chicks
Midnight the Castro for some real alt dot kicks
How I wish I could still do speed and weed
Be so sharp when I have to go on TV
Head back home kick it with some china white
Growing older man — it just ain’t right
How I wish I could still do speed and weed
Growing older man — it just ain’t right
He is the air controller
You are the air
The people are proud of their father
Foreigners beware
He’s got a neutron charge card
He’s a mighty tough customer
He’s the glorious defender of the homeland
He just might play tough with ya
President Mussolini makes the planes run on time
Oh dig it little Arabella
He’s a strong man
Keep ‘em flyin’
Newspapers scream “He’s a winner.”
Nobody’s sayin’ what’s being won
Actor image – no content
What exactly is being done?
Send a little aid down south just to
Kill a few San Salvador nuns
Down in South Africa on civilized business
Trying to get gold for guns
Couldn’t be easier to know just what to do
If you were holding out all the money
Just a-looking for an easy going mechanic of depression
And then to wind up with your teeth against the wire fence
Wind up in the smallest of worlds crotch to the angriest lips
One deadly little spasm in the B.F. Skinner cancerteria
One deadly little spasm and what did this money buy?
Keep ‘em flying
I Hope You Didn’t Dose The Pudding (Phriendz 2016)
she tossed away the side of her face
she’s an elevated totally evil wigged-out angel
she shaked clear and showed me her glass spine
she says she’s very very smart
she’s a masculine italian gangster movie
she wears those black satin gloves so groovy
she feels the breath of god caress her
she loves old wizard in Beatle boots
she likes the thrill of the overdosed jester
she wants a lie that’s more fulfilling
I hope you didn’t dose dose dose the pudding
I hope you didn’t dose dose dose the pudding
I hope you didn’t dose dose dose the pudding
I hope you didn’t dose dose dose the pudding
Stand funky
Don’t worry
Be happy
Madly happy
Keep on rappin’
What me worry?
Glad handed
Stand tall
Stand funky
Don’t worry
Be happy
Have a ball
Stand funky
Don’t worry
Be happy
Madly happy
Keep on rappin’
What me worry?
Glad handed
Stand tall
Stand funky
Don’t worry
Be happy
You could be a Christ creator
Answer those things you find in the paper
Don’t be afraid to call that number
Don’t hesitate to fulfill that hunger
You could be a Christ creator
Don’t hesitate to fulfill that hunger
You would make a lovely dictator
A wizened rising hip little scene maker
Don’t be ashamed we need a hen house lover
Don’t be afraid to be our real cool comer
You would make a lovely dictator
Don’t be afraid to be our real cool comer
Stand tall
Stand funky
Don’t worry
Be happy
Madly happy
Keep on rappin’
What me worry?
Glad handed
Stand tall
Stand funky
Don’t worry
Be happy
Have a ball
Stand funky
Don’t worry
Be happy
Madly happy
Keep on rappin’
What me worry?
Glad handed
Stand tall
Stand funky
Don’t worry
Be happy
Dictator’s wife does the bump and grind
Guess I’ll do up another line
The rules they don’t apply to me
The rules they don’t apply
The rules they don’t apply
Women will rule over men
‘Cept for me – I’ll rule over them
And everybody’s gotta be sweet
“Cept for me – I got a right to tweek
And you gonna be my freak
You gonna be my freak
The medium is the message
Money makes it dance
Love is the product
The joke is in your pants
A love like the nasty dry cat tongue licks against the jewels angst
Sho’ ’nuff broken in a world of cloised noise and glass ashtrays
Our landscape was like the blinking lights on a Vegas street in search of a meal
But I love you more than paradise baby — you’re a cadillac amongst humans
The medium is the message
Money makes it dance
Love is the product
The joke is in your pants
On the beam
And she’s so high
On the beam
On the beam
All the time
In the world
Well if you try
You’re a lucky girl lucky girl
If you can feel it
You can dance forever
If you can deal with it
Live forever live forever
Everything
Will be ours
From the planet
To the stars to the stars
We’re getting on the beam
Things are just as they seem
Immortality in the age of the clever
Live forever live forever
On the beam
Live forever
I call it home
I ain’t too highly paid though
Just flesh and bone
I’ll put a little thingie out
On video cassette
And hope the Minister of Propaganda
Don’t get too upset
Still it all comes though
The United Matrix of America
Pagan rhythms out of Africa
Pagan shipments out of Kathmandu
From the Aztecs to the Ming
Genetic carnival on wings
We’ve got a little freak show
We call it “The Hunchback Squeaks”
And then I politician
I get on up and I speaks
“I got a lotta rage” he cries
“And lots of irony”
You’re baboons in a cage” he lies
“I’m going to set you free”
Still it all comes though
The United Matrix of America
Pagan rhythms out of Africa
Pagan shipments out of Kathmandu
From the Aztecs to the Ming
Genetic carnival on wings
Gotta get back to L.A. now
Got a media jones
Talking with the network boys
and taking out more loans
I get 3 minutes on NBC
Attack the ruling class
I’ve got 4 friends at NASA now
If I have to move my ass
Still it all comes though
The United Matrix of America
Pagan rhythms out of Africa
Pagan shipments out of Kathmandu
From the Aztecs to the Ming
Genetic carnival on wings
Dum dee dum dee dum dee dum dee dee doo
I just saw the car with the perfect keys
Dum dee dum dee dum dee dum dee doo wah
Let’s steal our lives with the keys of the rich
Dum dee dum dee dum dee dum dee dee doo
Here comes a little cutie with a fish in her hair
There goes a wave with some cheap glasses on
Everybody’s waiting for the weekend
My hands are waiting for her pants
I’m the one who needs those keys
To finish dum dee dum dee dum dee doo doo
Now I’m a communist with a cynical eye
See me riding with my leather whip
To the end of the sea with my dum dee doo doo
To the end of Russia with my radio
Everybody must plug their car in at the carport
Everybody still loves Britney when her dress’s short
Everybody has to have a quick and snarky retort
But things here aren’t really all that bad
Since everybody must get rehab
They stone you when you don’t wear your chador
They stone you and they call you a whore
They stone you in Iraq and in Iran
They stone you and then they cut off your hand
But here things aren’t really quite as bad
Still everybody must get rehab
Everybody must get their free botox injection
Everybody must be available for inspection
Everybody must get a way rad looking cell phone
Everybody must pay back the interest on that home loan
But I guess things aren’t quite so bad
Still everybody must get rehab
They stone you when your homeless and your poor
They stone you when you can’t say who your for
They stone you like they stoned Tupac Shakur
They even stone you when you close the white house door
But I guess things aren’t quite so bad
Still everybody must get rehab
Sacrifice your fingers to an electric fence
I torture you in future tense staccato
And come back home and rest in bed all day
I’ve got techniques for ecstasy
Keeping them under the hat stand
Let’s whip ’em out
And see if anything fits on your head
I wanna steal your radio
Capture you on a hard disc drive
Save you and make a million copies
Give one to each of my friends
I inverted the very color of being
But you — you weren’t there
I wanna be your radio
Sire wire fire and inspire you (cyber cyber)
Flick the switch that renders you insane
Come back home and rest in bed all day (cyber cyber)
I wanted to be Salvador Dali
I wanted to be dead and unreasonable
Let’s grieve in concentric circles
To make the night release your brain
I wanna be your radio
Now I wanna be your radio
Just to see the light
Got a helping of
Gut sandwich
I didn’t ask for it
Person in a dish
Art for arts’ sake
Cut the birthday cake
I don’t feel right
I think it’s the flu
Went to the phone and I might give someone a call
Phone is ringing anyway
Shower and a shave
Someone’s guts sandwiching again across the front page
I don’t feel right
I think it’s the flu
Went to the phone and I might give someone a call
If it doesn’t drive me crazy
If it doesn’t make you crazy
Is it my health again or is it something in the air
If I look out my window
I might see a constellation
Someone’s screaming out there I hope she’s only joking
If it doesn’t drive me crazy
If it doesn’t make you crazy
Is it my health again or is it something in the air
Don’t forget to bring your bedpan
We’re telling jokes that kill
Don’t forget to bring your pills
Took the lawyers several months just to write an i.o.u. babe
It takes so many horrible workers just to build a single beat
It takes so many horrible lovers just to put me on my feet
Should I write an i.o.u. babe
We’re all born to original debt
Write it off to appropriation
What you see is what you get
Afternoon at the Holiday Inn
All the bands are named MONDO Vanilli
They’re playing songs to make you relax
We’re laughing in the back
Took the chauffeur several hours just to write an i.o.u. babe
(How you gonna baste the turkey if you don’t have any stuffing!)
It takes so many well paid servants just to find a decent place to eat
It takes so many local hookers to keep me from falling asleep
Should I write an i.o.u. babe or can you find the joke
And when you’re done with the lawsuit
Be sure to slaughter the goat god
Great man or brackish water
Gird your loins for the latest slaughter
Nick nack shoulders back
Paddywack you’re so attractive
Stand up straight and tall
Throw the bitch a bone
Face the world alone
Bible black the girls are prone
But you refuse and follow rules
Twelve in all time will crawl
Stoic asshole on a roll
Followers at beck and call
No spoilt brats or baseball bats
No more slouching hipster cats
Norm pied piper and his rats
Check his arm he has no tracks
The normative sounds of Peterson
Making Tea for the tweeter’s son
Twats on fire guns for hire
All the sticks up the ass inspired
Certainly the right attire
Making sure the good men hired
Not aggro so much as trite
Lead the sad boys to the light
I keep hearing that name
I keep seeing that name
Everywhere it seems the same
Everywhere I see that name